


Dreams

by melitta4ever



Category: Political RPF - US 21st c.
Genre: Dream Logic, Dreams and Nightmares, Dubious Consent, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Humiliation, M/M, Public Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-12
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-20 08:55:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30002433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melitta4ever/pseuds/melitta4ever
Summary: The former president once mentioned that he had dreams about a gay candidate, that how easy it would be for him to face the young man in the presidential debate.Here's what I came up with regarding that dream back than.
Kudos: 3





	Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> The story is from Donald's POV, so do not expect anything healthy or sane let alone respectful.
> 
> I didn't tag the young candidate or use his name since I'm already ashamed even writing this filth.

Sex dreams were nothing new. Donald liked them. Loved them even, especially now that he couldn't party like he had used to. Who would thought that being a fucking president could be so fucking boring. Even that pussy-whipped Bill had managed to party with plump, little interns. In the oval office nonetheless. But not Donald. The fucking _me too_ nonsense came out just to fuck with his game. Everyone and their advisors were too fucking scared. And his staff were apparently sworn not to leave him alone with any girl who could be considered pretty even by very loose standards.

This dream though… This one was different. It started as a regular nightmare where Donald couldn't speak or move… but then…then it turned into a nightmare dream combo. He could move during the second half. It's just…he somehow didn't want to.

  
  


The lights of the podium were wrong. They probably staged it for the midget; the light was hitting Donald right in the eye. Stupid fuckers. It was getting more and more impossible to find a guy who could actually do a job without messing it up. It wouldn't have mattered if he could see the audience. He needed to see them. See their response, their cheers… it's how he operated. What he knew better than anything was how to keep his audience engaged.

The only thing he could see in the very loud, very bright room now was the midget. Standing tall behind his too high podium, barely reaching to the microphones. Like a kid getting ready for school performance. Donald couldn't help a snicker. Fuckers managed to mess up midget's side too it seemed.

What the hell was going with the moderators? Donald's been waiting for… What, half an hour? This was ridiculous. He should have left already. He was the fucking POTUS. He had important stuff to attend to. Stuff that if any one of these liberal fucking journalists got a sniff, it would mush their brains, scar them for life… bunch of pussies! Sitting there with their papers and with that holier than thou attitude. All they had to do was to ask predetermined questions and they took their sweet time.

Suddenly, the midget started to speak. Answering a question that Donald hadn't heard. The murmur from the audience was too loud that Donald could barely hear him, and apparently missed the moderators' question completely. Oh, the kid talked… And talked… And talked… So boring. The last time Donald had listened to someone talking like this was in college, and he hadn't paid any attention to that professor either. He yawned. Not willing to hide how boring he found his opponent. The midget was boring. Donald was the opposite of boring. Donald was the guy who brought life to a party and party to politics. 

Silence. The midget was looking at him now. Waiting for a response? Probably. Not hearing the question, or not listening to the first answer was not going to stop Donald obviously. He started with mocking the midget using bigger words than himself. And there it was. Audience was laughing. A laugh was much better than applause because you couldn't mimic a laugh.

But… the midget was laughing too. 

"Mr President," he started with a grin that Donald wanted to smack it out of his baby face. "The question was about our education system and how it failed to educate our children in the most basic topics, like speaking **our** language." He stopped; looking at somewhere, probably at the audience —he must be able to see them unlike Donald, "Was this plain enough maybe?"

This time the laughter was higher. They were laughing at him. At him!

He went for advocating little guys. The ones without shiny _Ha'waad_ diplomas. The ones who didn't attend fancy shmancy colleges. The ones working their ass off and wanted to watch a debate without requiring… anal… annal… a-nal… tick… a-nal-tricka...

The laughter was booming now. Donald could hardly hear himself talking.

"Are you, by any chance, trying to refer to Encyclopedia Britannica?" asked the babyface, a Good Samaritan smile on his pretty face. Fake bastard! "Or maybe Acta Analytica?" Again with that smirk. He looked bigger now though. Head taller than his podium now. Did he get a step to climb on?

Donald said as much cause he needed to change the topic.

"Me? No!" was his _oh I'm so surprised you asked me that_ response. "But it seems you might need one, sir." The _sir_ didn't sound at all respectful. It was a mocking _sir._ Not a presidential _sir_ but an old dude _sir._

Still, it was ridiculous to think that Donald might need a step to see over the podium. When the midget clearly didn't.

But when he turned back to face the audience, he realized he indeed did need something. All he could see was the sea of microphones on top of the podium.

It must be the damn lights… Driving him blind… Giving him a headache too… 

"Are you going to answer the question?"

"What?" What question? Another one already. Donald hadn't heard one.

Then the babyface started talking, before Donald could get his bearings and understand the question. Not that anything the midget said was understandable. Was he even speaking English? It sounded like Latin.

When he turned back towards the moderators, Donald couldn't even see the microphones anymore. The podium grew a good foot more it seemed. He was standing behind a wall now.

"You lost the debate, sir," babyface said, suddenly standing next to him. In one smooth move, he slid his tie off. Donald couldn't help but notice how his forearms were bulging out of his rolled up sleeves. He was bigger and taller than Donald. "I'll fuck you now."

They weren't behind the podium anymore. The stage was clear. But the lights on top of them were so bright that Donald couldn't see anything. Except that he was nude. Standing buck-naked.

"What? I didn't lose. I never lose."

Babyface pointed at the scoreboard where Donald got a fat zero while the fairy's name stood above a million digits.

"No." This couldn't be.

"It's the rules. That's what everyone is waiting for now," the fairy explained with a pitying smile.

Donald, now, could hear the _Fuck him up_ chants. He remembered how his aides had been going on and on about the new debate rules, but Donald hadn't paid any attention then. He'd been so sure that he would win any debate…

The babyface was still clothed, but put out his dick through his dress pants. A mother fucking monster! 

"It's not like I want to do _you_ ," he had the gall to say, "but it's the rules."

Donald was now lying face down on a wobbly bench.

"No!" he screamed. At least he tried to, but he couldn't make any sound. Then he felt the monster cock pushing.

He tried breathing, trying to talk, make any sound… or a gesture to stop it. Nothing...

Where the fuck was the secret fucking service?

"Looks like you enjoy this?" the fairy asked when his dick pushed past Donald's lungs. "He likes it," he announced then, loud and clear for anyone in the room.

Donald could hear the laughter cascading around him. Everywhere. There were people watching all around him. Laughing. Staring.

He was hard and the babyface was showing it off.

"This isn't even sex," he continued talking as if he wasn't pounding Donald like a jackhammer. "It's just part of the debate, sir. And you're enjoying it?" 

This time laughter was louder and longer.

"You know," the fairy whispered in his ears, as his scent filled Donald with a longing. "This," he started pointing at Donald's dick, "gets smaller the longer you enjoy taking it up in the ass."

Damn! Donald knew that. He had forgotten for a moment but now he remembered. Oh shit! He was already shrunk so much! 

"And if you came…" He didn't have to finish it. Donald knew that too. He wouldn't have had any dick. He would turn into a fucking sissy. He would become a butt-hugger, carpet-muncher, faggot auntie...

Oh! Fuck! But the boy smelled so fucking good. 

Donald came.

  
  


He woke up panting, his legs tied up with the bunched up covers, his arm hurting like a bitch… and with that nasty wetness in his underwear. His hands automatically went in there just to check the merchandise. It was there. Happily sitting in its own juice and slowly returning its resting size. Donald gave himself a little squeeze, just to double check. Yep. Everything was in order. 

For now.

  
  



End file.
